There's No Place
by Jayie The Hufflepuff
Summary: Mal really didn't want to be a Hufflepuff. What was the point of all them thrilling heroics if they didn't land him in Gryffindor? But as long as being at Hogwarts keeps him and his sister Zoe safe, he'll make it his home.
1. Prologue

There's No Place

Prologue

Mal should've known that Zoe'd read his mind. That creepy piercing, no-nonsense gaze of her really should've been a giveaway. That and she'd known him all his life and had a tendency to know exactly what it was he didn't want her to know. But then he supposed, sisters were like that.

He'd been in his room packing up his things when she appeared in his doorway. Mal didn't even need to look up to know she was there. It was like she carried an aura of disapprovin-i-ness and I-told-you-so-ness about her. "You planning on a trip, Mal?"

Even now, that utterly deadpan tone made Mal smirk. He spared a quick glance down at the scruffy little backpack he'd hastily thrown his clothes in before looking up at his foster sister. The dark-skinned girl was leaning casually against the frame of his door, her arms crossed forbiddingly over her chest. Her elven-year-old face was hard as stone, the only suggestion of emotion the light of amusement in her eyes. Only Mal knew how to read that face.

This particular invasion of his thoughts, however, was less than welcome. The little boy glared at his foster sister, sparing a quick glance into the hallway to make sure they were alone. It was too late for Them to still be up, but Zoe's voice could've woken Them. "Y'know, there's a concept been thought up called 'knocking.' It's interesting, might wanna look into that." He was being harsher than usual, but this was one secret Zoe wouldn't understand. The kid sighed at Zoe's unfaltering glare. "Go back to sleep Zo'. Y'ain't gonna stop me."

Zoe cooly raised a single eyebrow. "Who said anything about stopping you?" Mal looked at her in surprise. The corner of her mouth twitched up in the faintest hint of a smirk. "Subtly isn't your strong point, Mal. I saw that letter you got yesterday." Her gaze flitted down to Mal's hand, where said letter was being tightly gripped.

Damn her perceptiveness. The boy crossed the room and put a hand on Zoe's shoulder in an unusual show of emotion. "I gotta go Zoe, don't you see that? If this letter is real, if I'm really a... a iwizard/i, then this is my only chance to get out of here for good!" He looked right into her eyes, willing her silently to understand. "But as soon as I get there I'll find a way to sneak you in. I'll come back for you, I promise."

This was the part where Zoe was supposed to get all serious-like and they were supposed to exchange some solemn oath of sibling-hood and Mal would ride off to get the calvary so he could come back to rescue the damsel in distress. So it was of some surprise to Mal when Zoe just smirked at him with that I-love-you-brother-but-you're-and-idiot look of hers. "I suppose it didn't occur to you to ask me if I got one too?"

Mal blinked stupidly a couple of times. "I might've failed to take that into consideration," he admitted lamely. His distinct feeling of idiocy was slowly giving way to wonder. "Wait, you got one too?"

Zoe nodded, drawing the neatly folded paper out of her pocket. "Wouldn't've believed it, 'cept it's kinda hard to doubt a talking letter," she explained drily.

Mal nodded. The same thought had occurred to him. "I just figured, since we're not actually related, wasn't much chance that we both had magic." The word still felt weird in his mouth. Magic was a concept Mal had long been skeptical of, but like Zoe'd said, not much arguing to be done with a letter that could argue back.

Zoe shrugged. "Both got lucky I guess." Though the girl kept up her stoic appearance, Mal knew that she was excited beyond belief because that excitement was contagious enough for him to catch as well. Finally, after so many years, they were getting out. They were getting ifree/i. Mal looked into the eyes of his sister and realized that, letter or no letter, he never would have been able to leave her. It was him and Zoe against the world.

Mal gripped her shoulder tightly as he fought to keep his excitement out of his voice. "Then get packed quick, Zo'. Soon as we're ready, we're gone." He affected a lop-sided grin that he suddenly didn't care that she saw. "We gotta get ourselves to Hogwarts."

* * *

First of all, I just want to say that I _know_the premise to this is cliche and been done a million times before, and yes it's less than creative, but I'm writing this one more for fun than anything. My first real crossover.

And for those of you worried about how this will affect my Warriors and Lion King fanfics, I am determined to continue those as well as this, so I've set a schedule for myself. I must write a chap of a Lion King fix, a chap of this, and a chap of a Warriors fic. So hopefully you'll be seeing more updates from me.

Also, this is inspired greatly by TheShoelessOne's SherlockXHarry Potter crossover, "The Magic of Deduction." If you have not read it, GO READ IT NOW! That story is epic. :D

Firefly and characters (c) Joss Whedon

Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling


	2. Year 1 part 1

There's No Place

Year 1 Part 1

Mal watched in disbelief as yet another train station attendant walked away shaking his head at the "stupid kid playing tricks." "Does anyone in this bloody place even know that Platform 9 and ¾ exists?!"

Zoë watched with amusement as a defeated Mal trudged his way back to her. "So, you planning on asking more attendants until we get ourselves noticed by security?" Her tone held more than a few hints of irony, which Mal supposed he deserved since he'd neglected to ask about Platform 9 and ¾ back when they'd had the chance in Diagon Alley.

The two foster siblings had followed their letters' instructions on how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. A few bus rides had gotten them to London, and from there they'd stumbled across the wizarding bar which luckily didn't ask too many questions when the two eleven-year-olds rented a room. They'd spent the week leading up to their departure for Hogwarts figuring out how to get money from Gringots without revealing that their parents didn't know they were here and buying up suplies for the school year. The two were high on a feeling of freedom like they'd never experianced before. For once in their life, They wouldn't be waiting around the corner to punish them. Mal and Zoë were utterly and completely free, and it was glorious.

It was also liable to leave one too idiotic to ask for directions to a very illusive Platform 9 and ¾. Thus their current predicament. Mal let out a groan, and put out his hand to the wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10, ready to execute an over-dramatic facepalm against the wal for his sister's entertainment. At least, that was the plan, but that kinda flew out of his head when he noticed that his hand was going ithrough/i the wall. He and Zoë shared a awe-filled glance. "You don't think..." Mal started, only for Zoë to nod. Together the two slipped their backpacks onto their shoulders and, as casually as possible, walked clean through the wall.

Mal had been half-expecting to be encased in the wall, but that was luckily not the case. What was the case was that they'd walked straight into a new and fairly crowded platform. People in a somewhat ridiculous robes were milling about everywhere, and in the middle of the chaos was a huge, maginificently scarlet train that bore the letters, "The Hogwarts Express." Mal couldn't keep the idiot grin off his face when he saw it. He'd always loved trains. Didn't know a thing about how they worked, of course, but that hardly ever seemed to matter. All that mattered was that they were a way to escape. Trains, buses, cars, planes, all of them were freedom incarnate and so of considerable interest to the boy.

Zoë nudged Mal's shoulder. "We should get moving. Train's supposed to leave soon." Her hand was closed in a white-knuckled grip on her wand. Mal remembered that the girl hadn't even blinked when that creepy wand-seller told her that it was aspen, 9 and a half inches, dragon heartstring, and unyielding. Mal looked down at his own wand, tucked nice and safe in his pocket. Ebony, 10 and ½ inches, dragon heartstring, and reasonably supple. He felt his grin building. He couldn't iwait/i to start using it to make magic.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by Zoë's voice. "Mal?"

Mal shook his head. "Yeah, no, I'm coming." He shifted his backpack more securely onto his back and followed the crowd to what looked like a baggage drop. Mal's grip onto his bag tightened fearfully. He and Zoë swaped equally panicked glances.

An older boy with a dark, pleasant face reached for Mal's bag. "Here, let me get that for you." Mal jerked his shoulder back defensively, tightening his grip on his bag. The boy's smile faltered for a moment before understanding lit his eyes. "Come on son, it'll be in your dorms when you get to Hogwarts. I'll make sure of it."

Mal looked reluctantly into the boy's eyes. For some reason, something in there deflated Mal's will to fight. Without a word, he handed his pack to the taller boy, Zoë following suit. Zoë'd probably have chopped off her hand if Mal had told her to.

The foster sibilings scrambled to get onto the train in the few minutes left before it was meant to depart. Mal was already beginning to regret leaving his bag with the taller boy. He'd probably lose it or send it to the wrong common room. Mal and Zoë looked for an empty compartment, not much wanting to talk to anyone, but the closest they got was occupied by a young blond boy. He looked up with a cheerful grin when Mal and Zoë slipped in. "Hey there! My name's Wash."

Despite his determination to be as stand-offish as possible, Mal couldn't surpress an amused snort. "Wash? What kinda name is that?"

The boy didn't seem offended. "Well, to tell the truth my name's really Hoban Washburne, but Wash seemed the better option overall."

Mal found the boy's cheerfullness annoying, but really, it'd be rude not to tell him their names. "I'm Mal Reynolds, this here's my sister Zoë Warren."

Wash grinned somewhat stupidly at Zoë, who looked for all the world like she'd rather eat soap than sit and chat with Wash. The blond boy babbled on, "My family're all wizards. My uncle works in the ministry. My brothers were all in Gryffindor, but I'm figuring my charm and wit'll land me in Ravenclaw." Wash was clearly joking, but his babble grated nonetheless.

One part of what he'd said had caught Mal's attention. "Gryffindor?" He'd heard about the different houses of Hogwarts, but he really didn't know as much as he might like about it. This kid might be useful after all.

Wash didn't even look embarrassed or anything about the siblings' obvious cluelessness, which Mal took as a kindness. "Yeah, Gryffindor's the house of the brave." He was met with blank stares. "Each of the houses takes in kids with a certain trait," he explained. "Gryffindor is for the brave and daring, Ravenclaw is for the wise, Hufflepuff is for the loyal, and Slytherin is for the cunning." The boy leaned back lazily against the cushiony bench. "Everyone says that all the dark wizards come from Slytherin and all the heroes come from Gryffindor, but plenty of great wizards come from the other houses."

Mal didn't like to admit how clueless he was, but this information was too important to pass up. "How about the other two then?"

Wash chuckled. "Well, my dad always liked to say that Ravenclaws were all stuck up, but he's just jealous that Ravenclaw always beat his house at Quidditch."

Another new word. "Quidditch?"

Wash's grin turned from friendly to enthusiastic. "Oh yeah! Quidditch is one of the best wizarding sport." He bounced up so he was on his knees, leaning forward excitedly. "See, it's played on brooms with all the players flying way up in the air and passing a ball around. I can't wait to try out, but unfortunately they don't let you on the team until second year." The boy's face was lit up with excitement.

Mal hated how awed he must look. Flying brooms? A game played way up in the air? He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but suddenly it didn't matter so much. He never in all of his dreams could have thought up something so amazing. He'd never thought that maybe one day he'd fly. He leaned closer to Wash. "You've played Quidditch before?"

Wash nodded, "Yeah my dad and I used to play it all the time."

Mal swapped a quick, excited glance with Zoë before asking, "Listen, any chance you could maybe teach us how to play?" Zoë stiffened beside him but he ignored her. Sure, Wash was way too cheerful, but he was also proving to be increasingly useful, and Mal wasn't in the habit of ignoring useful people.

Wash looked surprised. "Sure!"

The blond boy babbled on for a while, Mal and Zoë mostly drowning him out. Mal's mind was wwandering from Quidditch to Hogwarts to the four houses. He and Zoë were gonna be Gryffindors, he was sure of it. After all they'd been through, after Them, how could anyone say they weren't brave? He tried to imagine what Hogwarts itself would be like. The word "castle" had been used to describe it, but Mal couldn't associate a school with a caslte in his head.

Hours seemed to pass before the Hogwarts Express screeched its way to a slow stop. A great mass of students was trying to push its way through the narrow hallways of the train. Mal and Wash were content to wait, but Zoë rolled her eyes. "Follow me." The girl strode confidently into the hall and began to shoulder her way almost effortlessly through the crowd. Mal and Wash followed her as closely as they could, and before they knew it they were off the train. Mal grinned as he readjusted his ruffled robes. "Knew I kept you around for something," he quipped to Zoë, who just smirked back.

"Firs' years! Firs' years to me!" The three kids turned to see what seemed to be a giant standing by the lake, waving a latern in his massive hand. It was too foggy out to see the castle yet, and the way the mist rolled over the water seemed more ominous than welcoming. But the giant seemed friendly enough. "Firs' years over 'ere!"

Mal led his little rag-tag bunch to the giant. Soon a whole group of short little first-years was bunched around the huge man. "Alright you lot, only four to a boat." The crowd immediately started pushing and shoving and trying to fit as many of their friends onto the boats as possible. In the chaos of the crowd Zoë got seperated from Mal and Wash. Mal saw her being herded onto a boat with a pair of dark-haired twins. They met gazes for a moment, then Zoë shrugged and stepped onto her boat. They'd meet up again at the castle.

Mal let Wash lead him onto an empty boat where they were soon joined by two girls. Mal tried to keep from staring. He'd never really paid attention to girls, being eleven, but even he had to admit that the two girls were very pretty. But there was something arrogant in that beauty, especially in the one sitting right across from him. She held out a hand that Mal shook dubiously. "I'm Inara, and this is my friend Nandi." Her voice seemed too formal, cold somehow.

"I'm Mal, and that's Wash." The side of the boat suddenly became very interesting to look at. He zoned out as Wash and Nandi began to chat. Apparrently Inara and Nandi both belonged to very high-class pureblood families, and Wash was distantly related in some such way.

"And how about you?"

Mal started, looking up to see Inara staring at him expectantly. "Say that again?"

His feeling of foolishness was only increased by Inara's raised eyebrow. "I was asking if your parents were wizards."

Yes, there was _definitly_ something arrogant about her. Mal crossed his arms defiantly in front of his chest. "I reckon I don't rightly know," he drawled in as obnoxious an accent he could manage. That uneducated accent had always managed to infuriate Them, and it had become a weapon of choice agaisnt them that thought themselves better than Mal. "They're dead." His glare challenged Inara to argue the point.

Inara narrowed her eyes at Mal's unfriendly tone. "I'm sorry," she said, soundly only slightly so. There was a long, awkward silence that was finally broken by Wash cracking a joke that sent Nandi into hysterics. Mal and Inara finally joined into the conversation, but avoided speaking to each other for the rest of the boat ride.

As the boats drew close the the school, the fog rolled away and dramatically unveiled the school. Inara gasped and Wash let out a low whistle. As for Mal, all he could do was stare. _Whoa. Castle was right._ There was no other way to describe the majestic fortress in front of them. Mal was still in something of a daze as the boats reached the shore and he and Wash were rejoined by Zoë.

The first years were bustled into the castle. Mal tried to hide how awed he was by the grand staircases and glorious paintings. It was all more wonderful than he could have ever hoped for. An older woman with a tight bun and a strict, worn face stepped out in front of the children. "I am Proffessor McGonnagal. Welcome to Hogwarts." She explained briefly that they were about to be sorted and what each of the houses were, then she led them into a grand hall.

The rest of the students were seated at four long tables. At the far end of the hall stood a small wooden stool. On that stool sat a scruffy, pointy wizard's hat. After the talking letters, Mal really shouldn't have been that surprised when the hat burst into song, but it was still something of a shock. It spouted out a small ditty about the virtues of each of the houses. Mal chuckled when the hat mentioned that Hufflepuff house took in "all the rest." _Guess I don't want to go there._ McGonnagal began to call out names off a list. Each child tried on the hat, and after varying pauses the hat would cry out the chosen house.

"Malcolm Reynolds." Mal's stommach did sommersaults as his name was called. With as much confidence as he could muster he sauntered up to the Sorting Hat. The old felt hat slipped down over his eyes, leaving Mal in darkness. A hoarse whisper sounded in his ears. "Well, you've seen your share of trouble, haven't you? Plenty of courage there, yes, but cautious too, that's interesting. You don't trust anyone, do you?"

Mal's jaw tightened. In a voice low enough for only the hat to hear, he drawled, "As interesting as you insulting me is, d'you think we could maybe speed this up?"

The hat let out a throaty chuckle. "Ah, you're an impatient one. But you and your sister... ah yes, I think I know just where to put you." Mal's breath caught in his throat as the hat screamed out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Mal froze. _Hufflepuff?_ He'd thought he'd be a Gryffindor for sure! He cast a less-than-thrilled glance over at the Hufflepuff table, where a prefect with a smiling face waited to greet him. Somewhat sullenly he handed the hat back to McGonnagall and made his way over to the Hufflepuff table. The prefect patted him once on the shoulder. "Don't worry mate, being a badger's not so bad." Mal just nodded and sat.

A few more kids were sorted before there was someone Mal recognized. McGonnagal called out, "Inara Serra!" Mal watched moodily as the graceful girl swept up to the stool. The hat deliberated for several moments before finally calling out, "SLYTHERIN!" Inara made her way gracefully to the Slytherin table where, to Mal's surprise, she was greeted by the tall boy who had taken Mal's bag. Mal glared at him. _He's a Slytherin? Knew there was something about him I didn't like._

Mal's anxiety was mounting by the time McGonnagal called out "Zoe Warren!" His foster sister threw him a quick, anxious glance before marching confidently up to the stool. The hat had barely touched her head before it sreamed, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Mal let out the breath he'd been holding and scooched over to make some room for his siter. Nothing was going to seperate them. It was going to be all right now.

As Zoe walked to her seat, Wash was called up. He gave Zoe a thumbs-up as he passed her. Zoe just rolled her eyes and came to sit beside her brother. Wash's grinning face was soon covered by the hat. It sat on his head for several moments before finally crying out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Wash made his way over to the Hufflepuff table, still grinning. "Now we can play on the same Quidditch team!" he said to Mal, who found himself not unhappy with the prospect. Wash was followed by an Atherton Wing, who was sorted into Gryffindor, then another, then another.

The last kid to be sorted was a small red-headed girl with a name that Mal completely missed. Now that the whole Sorting thing was over, the boy's mind was growing drowsy. The Feast was something of a blur, and before Mal knew it, he was being led with the other Hufflepuffs to a passage near the kitchen. A prefect tapped the barrels in front of the passage, which opened up to reveal the Hufflepuff common room. Mal let himself be shuffled into the boy's dormitory, barely awake by the time he collapsed on the comfy, honey-colored bed. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was, _Well, we're here now. Zoe and I are safe here._

_For now._

I know I said I'd post a lion king fix before this, but I just uploaded all of The Quiet Before the Storm, so I'll count that as my new chapter.

I know you might not agree with all of my house placements for our lovely crew. Let me explain myself. Mal is a Hufflepuff because of his dedication and loyalty to his crew. Bravery he has, yes, but he's proven himself more than capable of running away from a fight for himself or his crew. He's not a Slytherin either, his crew's safety is rated over his own.

Zoë is a Hufflepuff because of her extreme loyalty to Mal and Wash. River said in the Serenity novelization that Zoë wasn't hard to figure out because everything she did was based on her loyalty to them, and that she would happily die for either of them.

Wash is a Hufflepuff because he's frankly not a fighter, and he's very friendly and a people person.

Inara's a Slytherin because she's cunning and very resourceful - she's used to manipulating people and using seduction and, as Mal calls them, her "feminine wiles." I'm not calling Inara a bad person at all. Remember, not all Slyhterins are Death Eaters.

Atherton's a Gryffindor because frankly he's too idiotic to be a Ravenclaw or Slytherin even, and he's clearly not a coward because he's an expert swordsman and would have rathered Mal kill him than be humiliated.

Shepherd's a Slytherin because we all know he has a dark and dangerous past.


	3. Year 1 part 2

There's No Place  
Year 1 Part 2

The next few days served to let the siblings' euphoria die down. There was magic here, yes, but school was school. There were classes to take, homework to complete, professors to avoid and suffer through. As the joy of being free began to die down, it was steadily replaced by fear and dread. Seemed that even when They weren't here They couldn't be forgotten.

The first Friday night of the year, Mal lay in his bed, waiting until the last hints of conversation in the boy's domitory died down and were replaced by snores. At last Mal was convinced that everyone was asleep, so he slipped out of bed. Quietly as he could he creeped his way out of the dormitory and slipped off into the common room. Zoë was already there waiting for him, a tense, stormy look on her usually emotionless face. Mal sat himself down on one of the plush, comfy chairs across from Zoë.

Without preamble, his sister asked tersely, "You're sure McGonagall got the letter?"

Mal nodded. "I snuck a look in her desk before Transfiguration. It was there and opened."

Zoë was nervously toying with her necklace. To anyone else the stringy necklace made from an old shoelace might have looked like a useless trinket, but it was worth a lot to Zoë - it was a statement to how worked-up she was that she was playing with it now. "And you think she bought it?"

Mal sighed, slumping back against his chair. "Hard to say. But I always have been good at forging Their handwriting."

When their Hogwarts acceptance letters had arrived, it had been immediately clear that They would never approve of the siblings leaving. The only way to ever truly be free of Them was to run away. Mal had written up a letter in Their handwriting, giving express permission for Mal and Zoë to attend Hogwarts and sent it back with the owl that had delivered their acceptance letters. Now they knew that McGonnagal had received it, and all they could do was pray that it would be enough to keep her from trying to contact Them herself. If she did, then she'd find out that Mal and Zoë'd run away, and They still had custody over them. Mal and Zoë would have to go back to back to Them, and that couldn't happen. Not ever.

Zoë let out a long sigh, leaning in close to the fireplace. "We have to be careful," she said in a low voice. "If she ever finds out the truth, we'll never get away from Them again."

Mal nodded grimly. "I know." He turned to look at Zoë, meeting her dark, tense gaze. "We'll get through this, Zo'. We're gonna deal with this, and we'll make sure They never find us again."

Zoë met his gaze evenly. After eleven long years together their bond was stronger than most siblings. They'd been through more than most, after all. They knew each other well enough to know who was the leader and who was the follower. Mal was neither stronger nor smarter than Zoë, but he was the one in charge simply because that's what he was best at. Zoë knew that, and she would follow him to the ends of the earth if he told her to. Likewise, Mal would be nothing without Zoë at his side, his loyal right-hand girl. She was the tough one, the capable one, the one who got things done. They were a team and they would make it through this together.

The next day marked the beginning of their first weekend at Hogwarts – and their first Quidditch lesson with Wash. The boy had borrowed a couple of Madam Hooch's extra brooms. "They're no Nimbuses, but they'll do," Wash explained with a shrug as he handed them to the siblings. Mal had no notion what a Nimbus was, nor did he much care. All he wanted was to get in the air.

Wash showed them how to mount the brooms and how to push off into the air. It looked so effortless when he did it – as though he'd been doing it all his life. Mal tried to copy him, pushing straight off the ground, but things got a little complicated there. The broom felt all kinds of wobbly, and he wasn't but a few feet off the ground. _This is harder than it looks!_

Mal gritted his teeth and pulled the broom with all his might, forcing it up. The broom grudgingly trudged the way he guided it. A grin spread on Mal's face as he realized he was _flying_. Really, truly flying. He let out a soft, breathless laugh. Sure, he wasn't zooming about the air just yet, and maybe he was just kind of hovering there, but he was flying, and he felt freer than he ever had before. There was nothing holding him down or trying to control or restrain him. He was _free._

A quick glance to the side showed him that Zoë was flying higher than he was, an unusual look of joy on her face. Wash was zipping about way over their heads for a bit before he came down to their level. "Alright, let me show you how Quidditch works."

A few hours and some less-than-brilliant flying later, the three called it quits for the day. Not much more had been achieved than struggling their way around the Quidditch field and learning the rules of the game. In that time Mal's respect for Wash had grown considerably. Even a complete novice to Quidditch like him could tell that the blond boy was a completely fantastic flier. The broom seemed to move without Wash making it do anything. Even Zoë seemed impressed, though she wouldn't get caught dead saying so.

Wash was able to lay out the rules of Quidditch for them but was less than knowledgeable about the actual tactics and strategies of the game. It was of some surprise to Mal that he could figure out most of it himself. After Wash's lesson his mind was teaming with different game plans and possible formations. When he'd lived with Them, he'd never given much thought to sports. Maybe now that could change.

A couple weeks passed. Each weekend saw the siblings practicing with Wash out on the Quidditch field. They were getting better with the whole flying thing, especially with Wash as their teacher. The pureblood was proving to be more useful than annoying, and Mal could almost say he enjoyed having him around now. Zoë disagreed more than slightly - Wash grated on her nerves something terrible. But if Mal wanted him around, she'd suffer through.

The three were heading back to the Hufflepuff common room after a couple hours of flight practice. It was a surprisingly warm autumn afternoon, so most of the students were outside, leaving the hallways clear. They were bouncing ideas for Quidditch plays back and forth, with Mal coming up with most of the ideas. Wash set his broom on his shoulders and draped his arms over it like a scarecrow. "So what d'you think? Think I'd make a good Chaser?"

Mal snorted. "I think that'd be more than a considerable waste of talent. You're a Seeker, clearly."

Wash let out a dry chuckle. "Not sure Stern'll be glad to hear that," he commented. Stern was the current Hufflepuff seeker, and he wouldn't be graduating for another three years.

"Wash, I've seen Stern fly. Trust me, the team'll be glad to have you."

Wash laughed. "Well, all I can do is try out." He turned to Zoë, who was being her usual stony-faced self. Well, the self that was usual whenever Wash was around. "What about you? You wanna be a Chaser, Keeper, or Beater?"

Zoë managed to glare at him while keeping her expression emotionless, a feat which probably broke several laws of the English language. "Chaser," she replied as curtly as possible.

Mal grinned. "Me too. Figure the other team sees the two of us coming, they'll high-tail it outta there quick as they can."

He was surprised to hear a tone of deadpanned sarcasm from Wash. "Right, 'cause nothing strikes terror into the hearts of wizards like two second years on borrowed brooms."

Zoë continued to glare at him, but Mal let out a short bark of laughter. 'Til now he'd been mostly tuning out Wash's babble. He'd never realized the kid had an actual sense of sarcastic wit. Maybe keeping him around wasn't such a trial after all. "C'mon, let's get back to the Common Room."

They were almost there when a girl rounded a corner without looking and bumped straight into Mal. "Oh, I'm terribly sor- Oh." It was Inara, who had clearly just recognized Mal, judging by the less-than-pleased look on her face. "Hello again."

Mal's jaw tightened. "Likewise."

A few tense moments passed. Something in Inara's eyes softened. "Listen, Mal, I am sorry." For once she sounded sincere. Probably regretted being too harsh first time they'd met.

Mal on the other hand regretted nothing of the sort. He couldn't forget the air of arrogance about her when she'd inquired whether he was a pureblood or not. "Well I suppose that I'm required by law to accept the apology of a Serra," he drawled, bowing his head dramatically. "Or is that just one of those social things?"

Inara's eyes grew ice-cold. "Are you really accusing me of discriminating against muggle-borns?"

Mal stepped closer, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really denying it?"

The Slytherin glared at him with fierce loathing. "Maybe you shouldn't make assumptions before you actually talk to people." She drew herself up to her full height and swept away, still graceful and regal-like.

Mal's glare followed her until she left, at which point he turned back to Wash and Zoë. His sister had simply raised an eyebrow, while Wash was looking confused. "... I missed something here, right?"

Mal just shook his head. "Let's just go." As the three made their way to the Common Room, Mal couldn't get that infuriating Slytherin out of his head.

* * *

So now we find out more about Them and some actual plot begins to emerge. For anyone wondering, all of Serenity's crew will show up eventually, but some aren't at Hogwarts yet. I had to have some age difference between the characters, especially for the younger ones like River.

By the way, Stern is indeed a character from Firefly, although he was never actually shown. In "Out of Gas," when Mal is given the catalyzer by the other captain and his crew, that captain tells one of his crew members to "call Stern," who according to the Firefly Wiki is their pilot, like Wash is for Firefly. So I made him the Hufflepuff seeker. It fit.

Up next is a chapter of Echoes of the War: Faded Boundaries.


	4. Year 1 part 3

That night saw another after-hours meeting in the Hufflepuff common room. Mal and Zoë waited until the rest of their house was asleep before coming out to sit on the huge, comfortable couches by the fireplace. There was not so much tension this time as a grim, resigned feeling of dread. Nothing was unknown or hidden this time. Just a task that awaited which neither wanted to do.

Zoë was the first to break the silence. "We can't just slip away one night for this." She looked up at Mal with an even, determined gaze. "Too suspicious, and neither of us are good enough fliers for that."

Mal nodded his agreement, even as words of protest died in his throat. iThis is wrong,/i a soft voice in his head murmured groggily. iYou know it is./i "Well, it's not like we have a place to go over Christmas. We can rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for that week, do the job sometime then, and slip away easy as can be. After all," his voice grew hard, "who's to suspect a coupl'a first years a thievin'?"

Zoë's expression softened at Mal's bitter tone. She relaxed her soldier-stiff posture a few decibles. "We still have a choice, Mal."

Mal just sighed. "No, we don't. It's this or Them, and that ain't happening."

Zoë shook her head. "Not what I meant." That earned Mal's attention. She leaned forward close as she suggested, "We could run. Take off during the holidays, catch a ride to King's Cross stations, go wherever from there. We survived a week in Diagon Alley, we can make it out there."

The hope that her tone had brought died down as Mal processed her idea. "Zoë, we survived because we'd taken Their money. Out there it we'd need to make our own living. We'd end up stealing anyway, and ain't no guarentee we wouldn't end up with Them anyway. Child services seem a mite less strict in the wizarding world. This is our best shot, Zo'. We have to try."

Zoë met her brother's gaze for a moment, her dark eyes scanning his to measure how much of his words he had meant. Finally she looked back down at the papers Badger had given them. "Then let's get this done," she said. But neither of them liked it.

The siblings ran over everything Badger had told them. He'd provided them with very rough layout plans for Niska's shop and a list of the kind of spells they'd need to break into his files. They stayed up late into the night practicing spells and planning their break-in, going over every last detail until they had a solid plan down.

The last few weeks before the holidays were almost something of a blur. Much as Mal wanted them to drag on, they seemed to whirl past him faster than light. It hardly seemed to have been a few days before the two of them were being sent by floo network with a few other students to the Leaky Cauldron. Before they stepped into the fire, Headmisstress McGonagall laid a heavily veined hand on Mal's shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Reynolds." Her weathered old face twitched into a rare smile.

Guilt tightened in the boy's chest. iIf only you knew./i He gave her as cheerful a smile as he could manage and stepped into the fireplace. Green flames flared up as he declared, "Diagon Ally," and a few seconds later he was standing in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.

The old bartender, Tom, welcomed them with a toothy grin and some complimentary butterbeer. He knew them well from their previous stay, and luckily he never asked too many questions about the two eleven- year-olds staying on their own. He even gave them their rooms from their first stay.

The night of the job, Mal laid awake on the bed, unable to will himself into sleep. His heart was pounding away like a jackhammer as he turned the plan over and over in his head. Everything had to go just right. Any kind of slip-up meant game over. i'Less of course I think of some daring and clever plan to save us at the last possible second,/i he thought without much real humor.

The tip of Mal's wand lit up ever so slightly from where it sat on the nightstand. Zoë'd found a spell that would cause their wands to light at a specific set time – specifically, the time to start the job. iTime to get to work./i

With a practiced air, the kid slid silently out of bed and slipped noiselessly out of his room. The floors of the Leaky Cauldron were of the old and creaky variety, but Their house had been much the same, which had given Mal plenty of practice of sneaking around without making a sound on them.

He waited in the lobby until Zoë came out to join him. She gave him a tense nod, then led the way out into the back room where the wall that led into Diagon Alley was found. A few late-night drunks were seated at the various tables of the bar – Mal figured they were all too far gone to notice the siblings, but all the same they slipped past them as quietly as possible.

The door to Diagon Alley slid back with the clanging and clinking of bricks knocking against each other, but as Zoë and Mal had tested earlier, it wasn't loud enough to be heard from upstairs where everyone was sleeping. Even if someone did hear it, they'd assume it was one of the drunk going out for a late-night pub. At least that was the hope.

Snow drifted lazily down to the cobblestone pavement of Diagon Alley. The sidewalks and rooftops were all covered with a thick white blanket of the stuff. Any other time it would have looked beautiful, but now it only served to remind Mal of all they had to lose if things went south.

They kept to the shadows to avoid notice. There wasn't much of anyone out, but the few people they passed didn't seem too concerned about the siblings. As long as they stayed out of the light of the lamps that lined the streets, they were practically unnoticeable.

That only became more true when they took the turn that led to Knockturn Alley. No lamps were lit in this crevice of town except a few sickly looking things that hung in the windows of those businesses still trying to look respectable. It was barely light enough for Mal to see Zoë slinking along beside him – all the better for their eventual escape.

They finally came upon a store quite larger than the other ones around it. It sat comfortably nestled in a corner between two dinky little houses, the sign above its door only just readable in the pale light of the lamps. "Niska's Heirloom Recovery and Appraising Services." From the information Badger had given them, the siblings gathered that Niska acquired heirlooms of rich Pureblood families – or things cleverly done up to look like heirlooms – and sold them back to the families in question. Apparently he was making a small fortune off of it. Most of it was forgeries, and what real heirlooms he had were stolen in the first place, so really stealing from Niska was stealing from a thief. iBut you're giving the papers to a thief as well,/i his mind taunted him. iStealing from the greedy to give to the greedy./i

Mal shook the thoughts from his head. He turned to Zoë and gave her a nod. iLet's get to work./i

The shop was closed, but Badger hd told them that a simple unlocking spell should get them in. Zoë pointed her wand at the door and whispered, "iAlohamora./i" With a loud creak that made Mal jump, the door swung open. Mal cracked a slight grin. iThank god for squibs and their crappy security systems./i

The inside of the shop was hard to see in the weak light. Sharp shadows were cast on the ground from the various shelves and tables where expensive-looking knick-knacks were carelessly cluttered. The dark, looming shadows and strange sillouettes of the store's wares were about as uninviting a sight as could be, but the slipped in anyway shut the door silently behind them.

By now both siblings had practically memorized the layout of the shop from what Badger had given them. Their unsavory employer hadn't known exactly where Niska kept the paperwork they needed, but he'd had a few good guesses.

Mal and Zoë split up. While she went off to check behind an enourmous portrait that hung on the far wall, Mal knelt beside Niska's check-out desk. The desk had three drawers, all of which were locked. Mal pointed his wand at the drawer and whispered, "iAlohamora,/i" but nothing happened. iProtective spells, huh? Well now. That's like to be a very good sign./i He pulled a paperclip out of his pocket. iGuess we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way./i

The good thing about wizards, Mal mused, or at least squibs who were wizard-raised, is that they never considered Muggle devices or ideas worth worrying about. So they never tried to protect against them. The drawers that his magic couldn't open were laughably easy to break into with the simple trick of picking the lock. He'd had more than enough practice with picking locks, the number of times They had locked him in his room as punishment.

iLooks like my whole childhood works to set me up as a perfect little criminal,/i that damn voice in his head whispered nastily. As much as Mal tried to deny it, this whole breaking-and-enterting business was coming just a little too easily to him. It felt almost natural to be sneaking about and picking locks. Fear tightened in Mal's chest. iIs this gonna be my life then? Thievin' just to get by?/i

The idea of it wasn't what scared him. What scared him was how okay he was with the idea of being a thief, if it's what he and Zoë needed to do to get by. Hell, there's a whole lot he'd do in order to get by, most of it enough to give nightmares, without a second thought if it kept him and Zoë safe. And that scared him. iDoes that make me a bad person?

Mal took a deep breath, forcing the fear out of his lungs. iFocus, Mal. Just get the job done, then you can get back to worryin' over moral niceties./i He forced his mind to clear as he methodically began leafing through the papers in Niska's desk. Nothing much of use in there, just some papers of sale and the left-over change from the day's sales. Minutes passed as he kept up his search.

"Mal." It was the first word either of them had spoken the whole heist. Zoë's low voice shattered the eeiriee silence with terrifying volume. Mal started when he heard it. Once his heart slowed down to a normal pace again, he turned to face his foster sister. She wasn't much more than a shadow in the darkness, but weak light lit up part of her face. "I found it."

Mal carefully locked up the drawers again and hurried to his sister's side. Her hand was resting flat on the smooth wooden wall. She gave it a quiet rap, which echoed back strangely. Mal grinned as he recognized the sound – the sound of a wall with something hollow behind it.

Now came the need for magic. They'd researched some of the more basic protection wards, and they were able to recognize the signs of the ones Niska had used. Together, Zoë and Mal worked to remove the wards, two wands pointed and two voices whispering countercurses. Finally, with the presence of all spells gone, a simple ialohamora/i made the door that had been nearly impossible to see moments before swing open, revealing a hidden compartment where a stack of papers were stored. Mal's eyes scanned greedily over the papers that would buy their freedom. He reached out and leafed quickly through, pulling out those papers Badger had asked for and leaving the rest.

The silence of the night was broken by a sharp knock on the front door of the shop. Fear leaped up unbidden in the boy; he and his sister shared a terrified glance before moving into action. As Mal slipped the papers into the sleeve of his robes out of view, Zoë shut the hidden vault door and dragged Mal behind one of the rows of shelves, where they were hidden from view of the front of the shop.

A door from the second floor of the shop, where the store owner Niska slept, opened creakily. Footsteps sounded as someone - probably Niska - descended down the steps and made his way to the front door, which was opened moments later.

"Why, Mrs. Serra." Niska's voice was heavily accented, though Mal couldn't have said where the accent was from. It was quietly polite, but almost made Mal think of a snake, coiled and watching it's prey. "Welcome to my humble abode. Ah, who is this little one?"

A woman's voice, weary and soft, answered, "This is my daughter. Inara, honey, go look around, see if there's something you like." Mal froze at the name of his classmate. The soft footfalls of a child sounded frighteningly nearby.

Niska's voice sounded again. "I must say, I cannot remember the last time a customer brought their child here. Of course, as I understand it, your newest accomodations aren't exactly the safest place to leave a child alone at night. Now, shall we, eh, get down to business?"

There was the sound of a wand being drawn from robes, then the woman whispered, "iMuffliato./i" Her and Niska's voices suddenly sounded distorted, as though sounding from far away. Even as Mal strained his ears he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Inara's footsteps were getting closer and closer. Mal cast his eyes around wildly for somewhere else to hide, but there was nowhere else they could go without being seen. iWe're trapped,/i he thought with a cold pit of dread in his stomach.

Inara rounded the corner, still wearing her school robes. Her eyes widened when she saw the siblings crouched and hiding on the floor. Mal wanted to signal for her to be silence, but instead he met her eyes with a defiant, level glare. iGo ahead, give us away. I dare you./i

Inara cast an uncertain glance back towards her mother and Niska. A few tense moments passed before she turned back to Zoë and Mal. She ducked behind the shelves with them and hissed, "What are you doing here?" Her gaze flicked to the papers, which were poking out of Mal's sleeve. "What are those?"

Mal flashed a fake grin, trying to hide how fiercely his heart was pounding. "Cookie recipes."

Inara's eyes flashed accusingly. "You stole them!"

She reached out to grab the papers, but Mal was quicker. His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist none too gently. Inara hissed out in pain, but Mal just tightened his grip and jerked her up so she was looking in his eyes. "If you give us up," he said in a low voice, "we ain't just facing detention here. You'll be tossing us out in the street. We'd never do magic again."

Inara hesitated. "It was your choice to come here," she pointed out.

"Yeah, 'cause bein' blackmailed's just the same as havin' a choice," Mal drawled sarcastically.

"Blackmail?" Inara looked less defiant now, her dark eyes portraying uncertainty rather than accusation. She threw a glare over her shoulder at the unsavory shopkeeper before turning back to the siblings, her expression determined. "Fine. I won't say anything. But when we get back to Hogwarts, you better tell me ieverything/i, or I'll tell Headmistress McGonagol about this."

With that, she turned and swept away, her robes billowing gracefully behind her. Mal let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. iWell, that coulda gone worse./i

It seemed like hours before Mrs. Serra and Inara finally left. Niska closed up shop behind them, then made his way up the creaking stairs that led to his room. The second the door to his room closed, Mal and Zoë were racing to the front door. They opened it as silently as they could, closed it behind them, and bolted out into the snow. Mal's heart was pounding hard enough to leap out of his chest. iThat was close. That was way, /iwayi too close,/i he thought shakily.

The siblings didn't stop running until they were back inside the Leaky Cauldron. They slipped inside, panting and trembling, but there wasn't anybody following them. Mal and Zoë began to chuckle breathlessly as they realized that it was over. The job was done, they hadn't been caught, and now they were home free.

Looking back, Mal reckoned they shoulda known it wouldn't be that easy.

* * *

I cannot even say how relieved I am to have this part done. This was the hardest and most annoying part to write, and the Firefly characters were suddenly acting very hard to write. The bits in the shop especially killed me, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. Hopefully next chapter will be better.

Up next is a Warriors fic chapter, then more Quiet Before the Storm.


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